"A nasty night, mind you," he would maunder
on, taking another turn. "As dark as your pocket, and the wind heading
us again from the old quarter." On the next day old Mazey, like the
dogs, was kept downstairs in disgrace. On the day after, like the dogs
again, he was reinstated in his privileges; and another change was
introduced in the after-dinner formula. On entering the room, the
old sailor stopped short and made his excuses in this brief yet
comprehensive form of words, with his back against the door: "Please
your honor, I'm ashamed of myself." So the apology began and ended.
"This mustn't happen again, Mazey," the admiral used to answer. "It
shan't happen again, your honor." "Very good. Come here, and drink your
glass of wine. God bless the Queen, Mazey." The veteran tossed off his
port, and the dialogue ended as usual.
So the days passed, with no incidents more important than these to
relieve their monotony, until the end of the fourth week was at hand.
On the last day, an event happened; on the last day, the long deferred
promise of the future unexpectedly began to dawn. While Magdalen was
spreading the cloth in the dining-room, as usual, Mrs.
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